Bloodlust and Love: The 31st Hunger Games
by samoht
Summary: In order to prove a point, Tomas, an unlikely volunteer from District Two steps forward as tribute. However, his decision quickly turns to regret as he realises just how much is at stake. It's not the home he's left behind, that will fuel Tomas' will to win; but more who he has left behind, and what she means to him. Rated T for violence.
1. Butterflies

Butterflies. That's all I can feel. Butterflies in my stomach. I stand with this sickening tension in my gut as I wait. Waiting to be told to take my place for the games. My Stylist, Selvia holds me close to her, rubbing warmth into my back with her free hand. This basic human contact with her comforts me, but only a little. I am shaking. I can literally hear the shaking in my breathing. I am convinced I am going to vomit. I jerk my head up to look Selvia straight in the face and tears blur my vision. "I'm so scared," I choke. I blink to stop the tears from escaping my eyes but it doesn't work. A tear roles down each cheek. I can't think straight.

"Hush now Tomas," she says. "You have a decent chance of winning." Her voice is shaky. I hope she doesn't start crying too. What she said is true, according to the capitol. I am ranked 5th in the favourites for this years games. But right here, right now that means nothing to me. I swallow as the urge to vomit becomes stronger.

May the odds be ever in your favour. A wave of anger floods me as I repeat that line in my head. I want to kill whoever came up with that line. I want to kill whoever says that out loud. The odds are never in your favour! I feel weak, as if this sudden feeling of anger has sapped all of my energy. As I stare at a fresh teardrop on the floor, I swear its like the recent events in my life are flashing in front of my eyes. I remember it so clearly. That freezing morning in District 2…

I wake up shivering. A tight knot in my stomach. The day of the reaping is here. The day I have dreaded yet yearned for simultaneously. I am going to volunteer. If I had told the others at school, they would have laughed. I hate them. Ever since I was little I was picked on. Being so small and skinny didn't help. Always picked last when choosing teams for sport. Never respected. Pushed around. Laughed at. I hate them! I blame it on my shyness. I am a little awkward at times and still quite skinny despite having grown to 6 feet tall. Once I became a victim I remained a victim. It just stuck throughout my whole childhood; and now here I am pulling on my neatest clothes to go to the reaping and volunteer to prove them all wrong. To prove that I am a quality human being that deserves respect, and if I die then I die!

I have picked my moment; waiting until I was 18, my last reaping until I did this. Perhaps I am a coward for risking it so late. After training hard for the past few years, my physique is looking all right. A lean yet muscular body. My skill with weapons improving with each training session, though I am not as good as some of my colleagues whose lives revolve around this career tribute training.

I eat a small breakfast with my family and we leave for the square. I walk beside my sister Jade. She is 5 years older than me. We don't actually talk that much but I love her the most out of everyone in district 2. Well, almost everyone. It was only the other day that Aliss declared her love to me. It was a little awkward but I said I loved her too; and I do. Aliss and I have known each other since we were 3 years old. She is tall and slim with a beautiful face and strawberry blonde hair. She is playful and always happy to see you. Her eyes are incredible. They draw you in. They are an intense bright green. She is one of my true friends. It was yesterday, on the way back from school when she said she loved me. I blushed uncontrollably and she embraced me. I had loved her for the past 5 years and had thought that she loved me, but had never really been able to tell for sure. I think she finally told me because she knew I was going to volunteer. She is the only one I have told.

As I walk to take my place in the boy's section of the square, my sister grabs me from the side and hugs me. I look her in the eyes as she whispers "Good luck."

"Thanks Jade," I reply, with a sad smile. If only she knew. My parents wave goodbye and their expressions turn to happiness as they are greeted by some friends of theirs. They honestly don't think I am going to be a tribute. They know that someone will almost definitely volunteer and they don't think that I will. This angers me.

My thoughts are interrupted and I am brought back to the present by a pleasant female voice that echoes through the small room telling me to prepare for launch. Hot blood rushes to my face and my chest starts pounding. The butterflies fly twice as quickly and my stomach flips. I am definitely going to vomit.

I step onto the metal plate. "Good luck Tomas! May the odds ever be in your favour!" Says Selvia. This doesn't help, especially seeing as she got some of the words muddled. Could this feeling get any worse? It does. She starts sobbing. Oh great. She tries to compose herself knowing that this isn't helping, but she can't stop. A glass tube slides over the metal plate, trapping me. Chances of escape have just dropped to zero. I stand and watch the sobbing wreck of a woman that is my stylist. I look down at my clothes. A thermal shirt and thermal trousers, both skin tight. Soft, thin leather boots. A tear stained zip up jacket.

The metal plate lifts. I Panic. I shouldn't be here. Why am I here? I don't need to be here! I should have stayed in district 2! I should have stayed with Aliss. She's all I need. What have I done?

I vomit. It splatters onto the metal plate and bits land on my shoes. I wretch until my stomach is empty. Great. The boys back at district 2 will laugh when they notice. That's right, lets all have a laugh at Tomas. I am surprised when I find myself chuckling. It doesn't last long.

Aliss. She floods my mind and I am brought back to the reaping day. I see her wave to me from the girl's section. She gives me a sad smile and looks away, wiping her eyes and nose.

I am filled with conflicted emotions. I push them away. I need to do this.

The stench of vomit fills my nostrils as the plate takes me higher.

Marge Vindavuer. District 2's escort. Her voice has been flitting here and there in my ears but meaning nothing. I'm lost in my own thoughts. Suddenly I am aware of her reaching into the boy's glass bowl. She pulls out a slip of paper and reads out, "Jamual Falls!" The crowd applauds. I have never heard the name but I see a young boy, 13 or 14 years of age slowly walk towards the stage. He looks confused. Marge looks down at him and smiles then faces the crowd. Her green ringlets of hair bouncing from the movement. "Do we have any volunteers?" she asks with incredible enthusiasm. I tense up. Now is my time. "I volunteer!" screams a voice from behind me. That deep booming voice full of arrogance. Zander. Of course he would volunteer. I hate him the most of all.

As the hulking brutish figure of Zander saunters towards the stage, his group of arrogant friends let out a boastful cheer. As he nears the stage a second figure that it takes me a few seconds to recognise, struts to the stage. Jak is his name. Zander is the same age as me. Jak is a year younger. As they both take their place on the stage I walk briskly from my place and up to the stage. I here a few whispers and feel countless eyes on me. I feel incredibly self-conscious. As I take my place on the stage I catch Zander's eye. He smirks and shakes his head, yet there is also a look of annoyance there. He doesn't want me ruining his games.

As the young Jamual walks from the stage with relief, Marge places three slips of paper into a smaller bowl. A bowl used often by the career districts. Volunteer's names will be placed in the smaller bowl then picked at random. She mixes the three slips up as much as possible then picks one out. I freeze. "Tomas Andralis!"

My name…. she called my name. I stare at the crowd as they applaud me. I try and pick out my family or Aliss but can't see them. Jak looks at me, nods, then makes his way off the stage. Zander curses and bumps my shoulder as he blunders off the stage in a rage. Now it's my turn to smirk. I catch site of Aliss at last and hold her gaze. A girl tribute is chosen then replaced by a single volunteer. The girl volunteer is called Blaze and is massive. I don't know her very well, which is probably a good thing seeing as we will be pitted against each other.

Its not until I have said my farewells to my shocked Family and a hysterical Aliss that the butterfly's kick in. Those butterfly's never left. And they are there with me now as I am lifted upwards, to my death.


	2. The Cornucopia Bloodbath

One moment I'm in darkness, the next I am blinded by a bright light. My eyes close tight. "Ladies and gentlemen, let the 31st Hunger Games begin!" The familiar voice booms around me. The first thing I feel is the sun on my face. It is warm on my skin. A gentle breeze touches my face and plays with my hair. I hear the sounds of birds and the chirp of insects. The air is sweet and clean. I take in deep breaths as I squint at my surroundings. The first thing I see is brown. Brown sandy dirt. I look beyond the dirt and see the Cornucopia, shimmering golden in the sun, stacked with weapons and supplies. There are not many supplies scattered outside of the cornucopia entrance. This guarantees a bloodbath. 40 seconds. I estimate that's how much longer I have before the gong sounds. I try to steady my breathing. The butterflies still maintain their hectic fluttering inside me. My mouth is dry. I can't swallow. I observe the environment. Scraggly sun beaten bushes litter the rough dirt terrain. I can smell trees. I look around at the other tributes and try to pick out my career allies. Blaze insisted that we both team up with the rest of the career tributes. The careers are nearly always the last alive. I didn't argue. I spot Blaze about 10 tributes away from me. I see my other allies. Patreeko and Cass from District 4. Both medium build. Plato and Trizzy from District 1. I gagged at the name Trizzy the first time I heard it. District 1 never disappoints when it comes to their tributes names. Plato is a monster. Well over 6 foot and covered in muscle. I spot my last ally. Daimen from district 5. I don't like Daimen at all. He has the most distrustful face I have ever seen. In the training centre, he hung around the career table like a bad smell until Plato asked him to join us. Stupid Plato.

How long until the gong sounds? Adrenalin begins pumping through my veins. I position myself, ready to sprint. A drop of sweat hangs on the edge of my nose. It falls through the air as if in slow motion. As the drop hits the plate below me the all too familiar sound of the gong sounds. There is a split second where it just resonates in my head. Then I go. I sprint. If there is anything I can do best, it's running. Already I can tell that I have the lead on the other tributes. I am nearly half way there. I catch site of a figure a few metres to my right. My peripheral vision informs me he is not one of my allies. I run until my veins feel like splitting.

15 metres. 10 metres. 5 metres. I slam into the rack of weapons, using it as my means of slowing down. I grab the nearest handle and blindly swing the weapon behind me. Blood splatters into the air. A warm drop lands in my left eye. I flinch as the boy from district 12 crashes into me, blood pouring from the gash in his throat. He was barely two metres behind me. This is the boy that - I observed through the training sessions - was nearly identical to me in build and height. He was like another version of myself, and I just killed him.

A stand there paralysed over the body for a few seconds. I look up. Patreeko rushes into the cornucopia. He grabs some cruel looking blade then sprints out of the Cornucopia and instantly embeds the blade into the back of the girl from 6 as she tries to pick up a backpack. Patreeko looks back at me and gives me a wild smile. "Come on!" He yells, "This is the best part!" I do not return the smile, though despite Patreeko's apparent love for slaughter, I do like him, strangely. I grab another blade then dart out of the Cornucopia. I shudder as more adrenalin pumps into my system. The girl from 7 sits on top of Trizzy beating her head into the ground. Cass suddenly leaps on top of the two and stabs the girl in the side with a small knife until she stops squirming. Blaze wrestles with a large boy from 10. "Blaze!" I yell. She turns her head in my direction and I throw her my other sword. She catches it with ease then hacks the boy to death. I turn to see Plato punching the boy from 11 in the jaw. The body of the girl from 3 lies behind him. Her back obviously broken. The boy from 11 makes a run for it, his broken jaw at a horrible angle. I rush towards him from the side and cut down at his leg. He screams and falls. Plato is upon him instantly. I hear a loud crack.

As I spin around looking for any immediate danger I spot Daimen. He watches in fear as Patreeko desperately fights with the boy from 7. They are 15 metres away. I run to help but its too late. The axe hits Patreeko's face. Blood goes everywhere. The boy from 7 picks up the nearest pack then runs. I look all around. I see surviving tributes disappearing into the arena. Some of them carrying packs or supplies.

Plato chuckles as he kicks a dead tribute in the side of the head. I count the bodies. Seven dead tributes. This is surprisingly low considering nearly everything of value was at the Cornucopia. I imagine the surprise on the capitol people's faces. How they expected more bloodshed. This is also not good for me, as I had hoped we would kill more tributes, which would increase the odds of my survival.

I exhale. My breathing slowly returns to normal. With the bloodbath over I can think straight. I see Blaze sitting upright clutching her leg, a nasty looking gash in her thigh. I don't remember seeing her get stabbed. She's bleeding heavily. Plato curses. "How bad is your leg?" he asks.

"I think I can walk," says Blaze. She tries to stand but groans in agony and falls back down. Plato looks down at her. No sympathy in those eyes. "Go through the supplies and make a list of what we have!" orders Plato. He is the alpha male of the group and is our leader. No one wishes to object. We go through all the supplies and are pleased with our find. "Plenty of supplies to go around," says Trizzy "and more than enough weapons".

Cass and Trizzy go about organizing our supplies. Plato stalks from body to body looking for anything useful. He mainly just finds a knife or a small pack here and there. Best to take them so they don't get lifted up when the hovercrafts come.

As I observe Patreeko's blood soaking into the gritty sand, I turn to Daimen. I notice he is wearing a pack. I get it. He was prepared to run if the fight didn't go our way, and then he watched as Patreeko was killed. He was only metre away. Just watching. "Why didn't you help him!?" I scream at him. I start towards him and stop as I feel the other careers tense up. Now is not the time to break allegiance. "Why didn't you help him!?" I scream again. Daimen's face turns into a scowl.

"I didn't think he needed help" he replies. Coward, I think to myself. I remember that there can only be one Victor. Daimen is just playing the game. I still don't like him. The way he acted so tough in front of us Careers during training, then being prepared to run away on us all. And that face is very telling. It has 'Back stabber' written all over it.

I hear Blaze scream. I turn around just in time to see Trizzy slit her throat. I stare. Plato watches unaffected. Trizzy see's my gaping mouth and spits out "She was too badly wounded. She would have been a liability to the group, I mean, she couldn't even walk. Why waste medical supplies on the dying?"

"We don't know she was dying," I say through gritted teeth.

Cass looks shocked at what Trizzy did, yet she offers no support for me. "I'm glad she's dead," says Daimen. He offers no explanation to this blatantly horrible statement. The grip on my sword tightens. I make a mental note to slit his throat.

We all move away from the Cornucopia to allow the Hovercrafts to pick up the bodies. I survey the surrounding arena. The cornucopia is surrounded by sandy dirt for about 100 metres. Clumps of foliage litter it. The rest of the arena is split into thirds. One third is thick forest; another third is an endless display of jagged rocks and cliffs that seems to go on for miles. The last third is a huge lagoon with countless rocky islands. All three parts are fantastic places to hide, and here I am, out in the open, surrounded by murderous tributes. My thoughts shift to the boy from district 12. His face. The gaping slit in his throat. My eyes shift to the drying blood on my sword. I can't get over how much he resembled me. I try to put myself in his place and begin to think how unfair it is. How horrible it is that I killed him. I then start to blame it all on the capitol, but what's the use? Patreeko is dead. The only career I liked, and so is Blaze, my district partner. We shared something because we were from the same district. Everything around me is so foreign now. I feel so alone. I feel Plato's eyes on me and I make my face an emotionless mask.


	3. The Plan and the Promise

As night draws in we make preparations to go hunting for tributes. Cass said she saw most tributes running in the direction of the forest. That's where we will go tonight. I have other plans. "I'll guard camp," I say.

"No" says Plato "Daimen over hear will do it. He's not a proper Career."

"No way!" screams Daimen. "I'm going hunting. I haven't killed anyone yet. Anyway, I bet I am way better at fighting than Tomas."

I can't stand his whining arrogance, but I am flooded with relief by his objection. "Whatever" says Plato. "I'll pitch the tents," I say. "And maybe organise our supplies a bit better."

When they all head out, I set to work. Pitching the tents, one for each ally. I hate Daimen, but In all honesty, although I hate to admit it, I see myself reflected in this loathsome child. I hate the fact but it is true. He's smart, like I am. He's got a plan and it is similar to my own. I don't plan on helping any of my allies unless it keeps me alive. I have to keep these people distant. This allegiance can only be temporary. I also plan on finding the biggest pack I can and stuffing it with all the supplies I will need to survive. That way, I will be able to grab it and make a break for it when the time is right.

I gather up all the backpacks and start packing them. One for each career. I do this because one pack will rouse suspicion. If I pack one for each ally then no fingers can be pointed. I am willing to give them that slight advantage to ensure that I can survive out there in the arena. The other tributes are better at survival. That is their advantage. Once the packs are finished I climb on top of the Cornucopia to get a good look around. Its dark now. I wish we had those night vision glasses I have seen in previous games but this year we don't have them.

Suddenly I hear them. Canon shots. I count them.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

The faces of each dead tribute are shown in the sky. The faces of the tributes murdered at the bloodbath, and Blaze, who was killed so horribly soon afterwards.

I sit back. The capitol people must be talking about the bloodbath. Commenting on each kill. Probably watching the careers now as they stalk the arena. Watching some poor tribute as they suffer. Hungry. Scared. Injured. Cold. Suddenly I begin to feel the cold even more. I slide into the sleeping bag I brought onto the cornucopia with me. What a lousy guard I make.

I think of Aliss. I wonder if I will ever see her again. How selfish I had been, to become a piece in this bloody game. For what! To prove something to those jerks back home? Great. Now I am probably going to die because I got so worked up about trying to prove to them that I am worth something. But I didn't need to prove it! Aliss loves me. That is worth everything! I bury my head in my sleeping bag so no one can see the tears as they roll down my face. Not like any one will be watching me anyway. Suddenly I am filled with a longing for home, and then I make a promise. A promise to win. To make it back home. No matter how emotionally or physically scarred I might become. No matter how this arena changes me, I will make it back home. To Aliss.

I drift off twice. I don't know how many hours it has been. Finally I hear footsteps trudging along the dirt. I look out and see the careers coming back. I do not recall any canon shots so I assume their hunt was unsuccessful. I don't venture to ask though. If they did kill someone it would reveal that I had dozed off.

"You haven't seen anything?" Plato says to me as I slide off the Cornucopia to greet them.

"No" I reply

"Neither" says Cass. "Not a thing. They're hiding well that's for sure".

Or maybe you lot are just hopeless at searching, I think to myself.

Plato nods in acknowledgement as he see's the pitched tents. "I packed us all a pack…as a precaution," I say.

"Good thinking" Plato says. "But I don't think we'll be needing that".

Through the dark I can make out Daimen glaring at me. You're not the only one with plans, I think to myself. I have a feeling I just crept up higher on Daimen's 'people to kill' list.

I continue my watch as the others sleep. I wake Trizzy two hours later for her watch. I gratefully sink into my sleeping bag. Surrounded by my tent walls I listen to the constant wind and think of Aliss. Hoping, just hoping that Daimen won't try to slit my throat. Not yet anyway.


	4. The Night is for Hunting

I wake abruptly to the sound of a canon being fired. I hastily get out of my tent and look around. The warm sun bounces off my face, contrasting with the cool morning air.

The rest of the camp stirs. Another tribute dead, somewhere in the arena. Killed by what? Another tribute? Animals? Poisonous plants? Succumbed to injuries? A capitol Mutt or something equally as horrific? The list of dangers fills my mind.

We eat a breakfast of apples, bread and dried beef. Not bad. I think of how the other tributes must be dining this fine morning. I shove the thought aside.

Daimen comes back from the huge lagoon, having filled our canteens with fresh water. He could have poisoned them. I watch as Plato drinks from his, and after a few minutes I decide its safe.

Plato says we are all going to the rocky area to search for more tributes. "We should split up," suggests Cass. Plato shakes his head. "Why don't we split up?" repeats Cass. Plato backhands her across the face. She falls to the ground. A trickle of blood runs down the corner of her mouth. "We move as a group!" Yells Plato. I don't know if this sudden act of violence was caused by Plato not liking her idea, or if he just doesn't want anyone else giving orders. We obediently follow him towards the expanse of jagged rocks and cliffs. It is impossible looking terrain. Trizzy has been left as a guard. Her cruel eyes watch us go.

The Jagged rocks make travel a slow and hazardous affair. The terrain is covered in rough surfaces at uneven angles. One slip and you could break your ankle. We travel for two hours.

We have just finished climbing a 15 metre high cliff when Plato says we can rest. As Cass pulls herself over the ledge she slips. She reaches desperately for a handhold and grasps a shard of rock that slices her hand open. I leap towards the edge and manage to take hold of her wrist. I've got her, but only just. I can feel myself slipping. Half my torso is hanging over the edge of the cliff, with Cass' weight dragging me down. I am not strong enough to pull her up. My breathing becomes panicked. I look into Cass' eyes and see Aliss staring back at me. I could let Cass go to try and save myself but I can't. I just can't. As I prepare to plunge to my death I am suddenly lifted into the air. I hear a grunt from Plato as he lifts me up, taking the weight of both Cass and myself in his arms. I land with a thud on the rocks. Cass lands next to me. "Thanks" She says breathlessly.

"Thank the big guy," I say nodding in Plato's direction. Plato just scowls and starts insulting us. Calling us weak and how we were not the allies he was expecting. I don't listen. I just stare into Cass' eyes and realize they are the same as Aliss'. The rest of her is completely different but the eyes are bright green and hold the same intensity. I decide to like Cass, even if it is just because of her eyes. Hopefully someone else will have to kill her.

Daimen is already helping himself to some dried fruit. The rest of us take off our small travel packs and take out what snacks we brought with us. I nibble on some nuts and dried apricots. I take a long sip from my canteen. I look over and see Cass nursing her hand. It is badly slit open. Her whole hand is drenched in blood and her right sleeve is soaked. I pour some water onto it from my canteen. She flinches. There is no way she can continue climbing with that hand. I try not to imagine Plato slitting her throat just like Trizzy did to blaze. I take another swig and that's when I hear the canon. The group looks around, searching for a hovercraft. We can't see one. We settle down a bit. The tributes are dropping off quickly. If they keep this up, it will only be the careers left. Maybe that's not the best thing. 10 dead tributes. That means 14 of us are still alive. I have to outlive 14 tributes. I may have food, water and warmth, but the number 14 flashes in my mind, taunting me. 13 tributes still to go. 13 tributes that want to get home just as much as I do. Suddenly it feels impossible. I try to remember the promise I made myself last night on top of the Cornucopia. The promise that I would make it home.

Movement catches my eye. A silver parachute drops neatly in front of Cass. I open it for her. It contains a tiny tin. I open it up and take the salve on my fingers rubbing it into her hand. I can tell by her expression that it has dramatically reduced the pain. I take a small bandage from my pack and wrap it around her hand. Maybe she still has a chance. Plato barks an order and we are on our feet again.

We stumble and climb for another couple of hours. Cass manages to keep up. The sun is making me drowsy. I contemplate asking Plato for a break but Cass speaks first. "Can you smell that?" We all sniff the air. Smoke. I can smell smoke. I lift my finger up to test which direction the breeze is coming from. "Its coming from the north east," I say. We head in that direction. The smell gets stronger. "Stop being so noisy Plato," hisses Daimen. Plato glares at him but says nothing. We creep closer and closer until a small fire is visible. We crouch behind a large hunk of rock. I see the figure of a boy. The boy from 9, I think. About 15 yeas old by the look of him. He is roasting a small animal over the fire. He stands up to stretch his back. He probably thought he was safe in this hellhole of sharp rocks. My attention quickly changes. I start wondering how on earth we are going to make it out of here without another sliced hand, when Plato's voice lets out a booming roar. I look up to see the startled look on the boy from 9's face as Plato charges at him over the rocks. The chase is on. We all draw weapons and take pursuit of the frightened boy. We chase him for over 20 minutes. There's a lot of stumbling and tripping and we earn a lot of bruises and scrapes. Everyone begins to tire especially the boy. We're gaining on him fast.

Plato begins jeering at the boy. "Come one man!" He cries in mock sadness "We want you in our pack! Don't be shy!"

"Make it easy for yourself. It will be a quick death!" Calls out Cass in frustration.

"Ha! Don't listen to her!" Screams Daimen with a murderous smile on his face. "For all the running you've made us do, we're going to finish you off nice and slow!"

The Boy picks up the speed with one final burst but can't keep it up. He's too tired. He slips and falls almost 6 metres down a rocky crevice. We catch up to him. Blood pours from his forehead and his left leg is horribly twisted. We climb down to get to him. The boy tries to crawl away but Plato stomps down on his lower back. I'm sure I hear a crack. The boy screams out in pain. Plato holds the boys head back and pulls out a knife. He holds it against the boys exposed throat. "Let me do it!" pleads Daimen. "Stand back!" Roars Plato. Daimen does as he is told. A horrible snarl appears on Plato's face as he grips the knife tighter. He then slowly slides it across the boy's throat, creating a deep gaping cut. Just like the boy from 12. I stop looking. The horrible groaning and gurgling sound coming from the boy from 9 tells me that he felt everything. A canon fires.


	5. Nightmares

We arrive back at camp. It's late afternoon. We decided to head home shortly after murdering the boy from 9. We arrive safely back at camp to find a nervous Trizzy. She tells us everything. She says the camp was attacked by three tributes. Both tributes from 8 and the boy from 3 are allies. I think, maybe the girl from 3 as well, if Plato hadn't broken her back at the bloodbath. Trizzy tells us that they rushed the camp, armed with sharpened sticks. She had managed to badly wound the girl from 8 with her spear but was outnumbered and had been forced to flee. The two male tributes had raided the Cornucopia, taking weapons, supplies and stealing four of the backpacks I had packed. Now only one pack remains. But that's all I need. They left the girl from 8 bleeding on the ground. When Trizzy ventured back to the Cornucopia the girl had died from blood loss. That explains the canon we had heard during our break on top of the cliff.

Trizzy tries to reassure us that our remaining supplies should be enough, but Plato is furious. He grabs her around the neck and punches her in the face. Her nose breaks with a snap. She falls to the ground and he bends down over her and punches her again and again until the rest of us have to drag him off her. She's still alive but unconscious and bleeding badly.

We leave Trizzy lying in the dirt as we head over to the Cornucopia to inspect what damage has been done. I sense Daimen looking at the lone pack and a feeling of desperation kicks in. I'll have to act soon, before he does, but neither of us wants to be hunted by the remaining careers. I decide that I'll leave when more tributes have been killed.

Cass comes up with the idea of leaving two people back at camp and letting the other three go tribute hunting. Plato rejects the idea at first but we all eventually persuade him. It's safer that way, just in case the camp is attacked by multiple tributes again.

Trizzy is now conscious again, and is keeping a low profile. Her nose is all crooked and bloody and she has two black eyes.

We all remain at camp tonight. We see the faces of two tributes in the sky. The girl from 8 who Trizzy killed and the girl from 11 whose canon woke me up this morning.

I curl into a ball inside my sleeping bag. Five tributes in the career pack and eight other tributes spread throughout the arena. Apart from the boys from 3 and 8, I wonder if there are any other alliances? I shudder at the thought of all eight remaining tributes allying together to take us down, but I know it won't happen. I drift into a restless sleep. The images of the male tributes from 12 and 9 fill my dreams. The gaping wounds in their necks stretched wide open. Their eyes staring straight into mine. I feel Plato's hands push me to the ground. I feel my throat slit open but no blood comes out. I stare up at Plato and an overwhelming feeling of terror takes over me. I don't see Plato's face, but instead, I see my own. I wake with a shout. I'm dripping with sweat. The images of the dream flood back into my memory and I force my way out of my tent. I will not sleep again tonight. I relieve Daimen from his watch one hour early. He doesn't argue. I climb on top of the cornucopia and let the cold night air embrace my body. I stay in this position until sunrise.


	6. Hard Life

This is only the third day of the games and Plato is getting impatient. He says we are going hunting every day and every night until everyone is dead. When he says everyone, I assume he means us as well. He reminds me of Zander back in district 2, only worse. I wish I was back home watching the games. I would have loved to see Plato and Zander battle it out for the position of alpha male. A game of bulk and brawn and not a single brain cell to share between the two. I find myself chuckling at the thought and quickly regret it when I hear Plato say, "What's so funny?"

"I don't know…um…just thinking to myself" I reply. That shut me up.

The next week and a half goes by in a blur of pain and fatigue. Plato keeps our bodies moving far longer than we thought possible. Sometimes we make it back to camp; sometimes we hunt through the night and have to sleep on the cold ground. Whenever we make it back to camp, Plato changes the guards. Guarding the camp is bliss. So far, no more surprise attacks. Hunting is a tiresome business but we have not been without reward. We have killed three more tributes. Trizzy stabbed the girl from 5 through the eye socket. I was guarding camp when she did that. She told me in detail the way the blood spurted from the wound. Her cruel face twisted in a smile as she demonstrated how she had twisted the knife. We chased the boy from 6 up a small tree. We flung rocks at him until Plato got a direct hit on the boy's head. He fell out of the tree and broke his neck, yet didn't die. Cass put him out of his misery.

Daimen eventually got his chance to kill someone but screwed it up. We had the girl from 10 cornered. He began to torture her with this horrible serrated hook that he carries. Her screams were unbearable. I was about to slit Daimen's throat but it was Plato who acted first. The humanity in Plato showed itself as he punched Daimen in the side of the head and quickly stabbed the girl in the heart, ending her pain.

When we are not killing tributes, we are walking. The forest is terrible. Twice we have been attacked by packs of wild dogs. I suffered a bite on my arm. I applied first aid and it seems to be healing. It still hurts terribly. Plato has received multiple scratches and bites, but he seems to just shrug it off. The dog attacks are rare. What are worse are the insects. They will seek you out no matter where you are. We find ourselves scratching the bites constantly. We keep an eye out for poisonous insects but so far we have encountered none. I don't know what they look like so the only way I will know is if one of us drops dead. The Capitol mutts known as Tracker Jackers are the only one I can identify. We hear them in the trees. Their low buzzing is always good motivation to keep moving on.

The rocky part of the arena is less hazardous than the forest but still unsafe. Those rocks are not only sharp and uneven but they make the nights unbearably cold.

By far, the worst place to search for tributes is the lagoon. Always wet, constantly swimming, and if you're not swimming then you are trudging through sand and rocks on the countless islands that scatter it. Most of the islands look the same as the next. It is exhausting. The size of the islands can range from a few metres – barely enough to sleep on – to at least 60 metres in diameter. I have decided this is where I will retreat to when I break allegiance with the careers. It has fresh water, fish, edible fruits and nuts, not as cold as the other locations and almost impossible to find someone in. This is where we are now.

We know at least one tribute is here. The boy from 7 who delivered the fatal axe blow to Patreeko. We have seen him a few times, disappearing behind an island or swimming away from us. We give chase but he is a strong swimmer. Cass is our strongest swimmer but she is currently back at camp. It's poor planning on our part. We sometimes see a smoke trail but when we eventually get to his campfire, he has moved on. The splashing our group makes as we near his camps would give him plenty of warning.

It is almost sunrise now and none of us can sleep. Our group consists of me, Daimen and Plato. We are soaking wet. These damp thermal clothes soak up water like a sponge, but the jacket offers some warmth. We didn't bring sleeping bags or any packs because they would weigh is down in the water. We sit huddled together. Hungry, cold and unspeaking. I feel comforted by their warmth despite them being two tributes whose company is the last thing I should want.

I am glad I can't sleep. Every night I have dreamed of the deceased tributes and their horrible deaths, or of Aliss. I am always filled with an overwhelming sense of loneliness when I dream of her. I wonder what she is thinking now. Has she cried for me? Does she expect me to make it home? I don't think I can make it, but if I can make it out of here, will our love last? I have been so selfish. I should be with her now. I will be with her. I promised. I am going to make it out of here alive, even if only to look into her eyes one last time.

I watch as the sun rises to begin the fourteenth day of the 31st annual hunger games.


	7. Bloodlust and Betrayal

Plato has had enough. The boy from 7 is uncatchable. Cass is our only chance. Relief ripples my aching body as Plato orders us out of this watery maze. We spent so long hunting the boy all over the lagoon that we have lost our bearings. We leave just after sunrise and use the sun as our guide. My skin is burnt from being out in the open. I've heard of particular underwater plants that – when their sap is rubbed onto the skin – it prevents sunburn. Cass would know, she's from district 4, the fishing district. If she were here, she could have caught the boy from 7 and probably would have found the much needed sunscreen plant.

Cass and I have built up a mutual respect for one another. She is kinder than the other careers and is not bloodthirsty like them. She is likeable like Patreeko, her district partner, was. Also, her eyes bring back fond memories of being with Aliss.

At midday we take shelter from the sun under a shallow rocky cave. We each eat a handful of nuts. A canon booms. Another tribute dead. Only four rogue tributes left and five careers. I should have run away ages ago. I am surprised our pack hasn't turned on each other yet. I'll take watch tonight at camp then steal away with my pack in the dead of night.

After 13 hours of exhausting travel, we eventually make it to the edge of the lagoon. We drag ourselves onto the shore like a trio of half drowned rodents. Cass sits on the damp beach. She seems to have constructed a small raft. "You have been gone for days!" she yells at us. "I take it that you killed someone? I heard a canon," Plato ignores her and walks towards the Cornucopia in the distance. Daimen follows but not before having a thoughtful look at the raft. Cass watches them go then looks at me. She smiles. Her dark brown hair blowing in the breeze. "Plato wants you to go in tomorrow morning," I say. "You're the only one who can catch the boy from 7,"

Cass roles her eyes. "So the canon was not one of our kills?"

"Afraid not" I reply. I change the subject. "Nice raft," I say, studying the crude pile of logs tied together with rope. "Oh thanks," she says. "I needed something to do. And I suspected that I may have to go in there at some point" She points at the lagoon. I look at the raft again. The raft certainly would make the traveling a lot less exhausting and would allow you to avoid the only hostile creatures the lagoon had to offer; tiny red fish that bite your leg when you get too close to them. Not life threatening but quite painful.

Cass leaves her raft by the lagoon. We head towards the Cornucopia to join the others. It's getting dark.

As we all eat around a large camp fire, the face of the girl from 9 shows in the sky. Her death was responsible for the canon at midday. She probably succumbed to dehydration or infection.

I look behind me out our dwindling supplies. It will not last us much longer.

I look into the faces of my fellow careers. Without a doubt every one of us has a plan. A plan which involves murdering each other in our sleep, or simply running away like I plan on doing.

I offer to guard first. Now is the time of my escape. The backpack lies against the cornucopia. Begging for me to pick it up and run. I must be patient. I should wait until everyone is asleep.

I lie on top of the cornucopia. The cold metal piercing my back. I don't enter the sleeping bag. The cold will prevent me from dozing off by accident. I just lie still watching the stars.

A twig breaks. I freeze. I slowly turn my head to the right and look towards the camp. I see no movement. I suspect its Daimen. I tense up, ready for action but restrain myself at the last minute. Daimen knows I am on watch. If he goes for the backpack I'll fight to the death for it. The whole camp will wake and there will be another bloodbath at the cornucopia. Daimen is not stupid. It can't be him. Then what is it? An animal? Another tribute? My imagination? My eyes search the dark but I see nothing except the outline of the tents. Nothing. No wait! Yes. There it is. Two figures in a low crouch, moving towards the camp. The boys from 3 and 8. It must be them. I realize they probably haven't seen me. I am flat on my back on the Cornucopia. They think there are no guards. The two figures are now beside the dying fire. I see the orange light reflect off their faces. They crouch barely ten metres from my position. I dare not move. In fact this could play in my advantage. If they kill my allies then great! Even if they steal my pack I wouldn't mind. Four dead careers would be worth it. But how could they kill us all? They know there are five of us. Suddenly it dawns on me. They must have been watching this camp for days. Figuring out a strategy. Only Cass and Trizzy have been here for the past few days. The two boys were probably absent when the rest of us made our return from the lagoon, and now they have come back and are walking into terrible danger. There are over twice as many careers as they anticipated on this raid. The best-case scenario is that everyone dies, leaving me untouched on the cornucopia.

As the boys pull out knives, ready to crawl into tents, intent on slitting the throats of the two girls, Plato's tent moves. He's awake. The boys freeze. Plato's head pokes out of his tent. He spots them instantly. He lets out a murderous roar loud enough to wake up every bird in a 500-metre radius. I see the look of shock that crosses the boy's faces in the firelight. Plato was the last thing they were expecting to see. Within seconds all the careers are out of their tents armed with whatever weapon was closest to them. The two boys run. Plato points at Cass. "Guard the camp!" he screams at her. Plato, Trizzy and Daimen give chase to the two boys who sprint towards the forest. I slide off the cornucopia. "Go on! After them!" yells Cass in desperation. I look towards the backpack then to the woods. I could so easily make a break for it with my pack. I'm faster than Cass is, and besides, she may not even chase me if I flee. However if I chase the two boys then I could potentially rid the arena of two more tributes. I could outrun them over long distance. I take one last look at the backpack then sprint towards the trees, picking up a spear as I run through the camp. I still have my allies. They won't kill me yet. The chance of killing two more tributes is just too good to miss. I can break my allegiance after they die.

I crash into the undergrowth. I see the torches of my allies in the near distance. It takes only a minute before I pass them. I don't have a torch but I keep on running. I can just make out the silhouettes of my targets crashing through the woods in front of me. They begin to split up. I make a split second decision to take the one on the left.

I almost lose him multiple times. Whenever I lose site of him I stop running and I listen. The sound of his feet crashing on twigs and leaves points me in the right direction. In no time at all I am close enough to hear his desperate breaths as he runs for his life. I am just fifteen metres away. My spear arm arks back. I take long strides then release the spear. There is half a second of silence before I hear the spear impale the boy's body. He crashes to the ground. Killed instantly. As I run to his body his canon sounds. I pull the bloody spear out of his back then look around. I see my ally's torches nearly one hundred metres away to my right. The other target must be ahead of them somewhere. The thrill of the hunt is rushing through my veins. This is the first time I have felt this. I twirl the spear in my hand and sprint towards where I think my target might be.

As I draw nearer I hear Plato cursing. I stop and call out to them. "You lost him?" I ask

"Yes," the monster replies. He curses again.

"I got the other one," I say. I reason that if they have lost site of him then he's probably gone. But I refuse to let this opportunity fall away. I can feel the adrenalin pumping through my veins.

I stalk off into the dark forest. I will find him and kill him. As I move silently through the trees I try and keep my ears peeled for any give away noise. I hear a rustling sound, which I estimate to be thirty metres in front of me, slightly to the right. I creep up until I am metre from the spot where I heard the rustling. He's playing the hiding game now. I stand still. Suddenly, as if he had materialized from the forest floor itself the figure of the boy appears right in front of me. I see a flash of steel in the moonlight and use my spear to deflect the knife attack. I fall to the ground. The boy grabs my spear and yanks it free from my hands. I feel the toe of his boot slam into my cheek. I blindly kick out with my own legs and manage to kick his knee. He grunts and the tip of the spear impales the forest floor inches from my head. I stand up and start punching him anywhere I can. In the face, the ribs, the throat. I don't bother with my sword. We both land sprawled on the ground. I feel a rock near my hand and pick it up slamming it into his face. I hear movement behind me and the rest of my group appears. Plato draws his dagger ready to kill the boy, but Trizzy stops him.

"We need to find out where they put our stolen supplies!" she hisses.

"I'm gonna kill him now!" yells Plato.

"Idiot!" she yells. "You can kill him after we torture him. Or don't you want to find out where the rest of our supplies are?"

Plato thinks for a moment then lowers his knife. "Get a fire going," he orders Daimen.

We have the boy tied up in vines. He's the boy from 8. He sits against a tree trunk. Semi conscious. Trizzy is set on the idea of torturing him to expose where the stolen supplies are kept. The fire is small. The blade of Tizzy's dagger rests in it. It begins to glow orange with heat. Plato sits silently. He slaps the boy if he begins to moan. I sit silently too, dreading what's to come. Daimen sharpens his hook weapon. I decide that it suits his personality.

Trizzy takes the hot knife from the coals of the fire. "Where are the supplies?" she asks the boy from 8. "I don't know," he mumbles. She instantly grips his right arm and presses the blade into his exposed wrist. He lets out a blood curdling shriek. I look away. "Where are the stolen supplies!?" Trizzy screams. She enjoys this too much. "Lost! All lost!" sobs the boy. "We don't have them!" Something about his tone informs me he is telling the truth. "I think he's telling the truth," I voice to Trizzy.

"Shut it!" she replies. The burning coals reflect off her cruel eyes as she glares at me. I watch as she angrily thrusts the red-hot blade straight into the boys forearm. The scream he lets out makes vomit rise up the back of my throat. I turn my head away and that's when I notice it. Daimen is missing. He's finally done it. How long has he been gone for? No doubt he is on his way back to camp ready to scoop up my survival kit and flee. Panic sets in and I stand up. The screams beside me pierce my eardrums. I can't take it any more. This alliance is over. I've tolerated these sadistic killers for far too long. As I watch Trizzy carve bloody lines into the screaming boys face I feel my hand grip my sword. I slide it from its position in my belt and the moonlight shines off the blade as I raise it. I bring the blade down again and again into Trizzy's body. Blood splatters everywhere. All over the forest floor, all over me, all over the screaming boy and all over a bewildered looking Plato. Trizzy's screams cut through the night, louder and more vomit inducing than the ones she could coax out of the boy from 8. Plato makes a move at me but I kick the coals of the fire at him. He falls back screeching, clawing at his face.

Everyone is screaming. I have never heard anything worse in my life. The hacked and slashed body of Trizzy writhes at my feet. Her whole body saturated in red blood. The red liquid seeps and gushes from deep lacerations in her flesh. With one final sweeping cut I decapitate her. Her head roles into the remaining coals and her hair fizzles in the fire. I can still hear her scream resonating in my ears. I want the screaming to stop. I want it to stop! I lash out at the boy from 8. My blade cuts deep just below the neck. His scream turns into a gurgling sound as a fountain of blood erupts from him mouth. Plato has stopped screaming and has grabbed hold of a spear. I turn and run. I hear a canon shot. Then another. The number 6 flashes in my mind. What does that mean? Six tributes remaining. That's what it means.

My legs work on their own. Never slowing. Running from Plato and in the direction of the cornucopia. In the solid ten minutes that I run, no spear impales me. Plato must have fallen behind or maybe he never gave chase. The moonlight shines off the cornucopia as I see it through the tree line. I crash through the trees and onto the dirt plain that surrounds the Cornucopia. That's when hear the third canon shot.


	8. The Snapping Point

I run towards the cornucopia. I'm half way there. My eyes trying to pierce the dark. 15 metres. 10 metres. 5 metres. I slam into the side of it and collapse to the ground. I let out a shriek of anger. The bag is gone. My anger quickly shifts to shock as I see the bloody dismembered body of Cass lying metres away. Daimen's first actual kill - and boy oh boy did he savour it. I half crawl, half drag myself over to the bloody mass. I bend over her. I can't help the tears that roll down my face. I raise my hands to touch her but I don't know where to place my trembling fingers. Her clothes are soaked with blood, head to toe. Her face brutally carved with a blade. Her eyes- oh god. Her beautiful eyes are missing. There are just gaping bloody holes where her eyes should be. Those intense green eyes. Aliss' eyes.

Before I know what's happening I find myself grovelling on the ground looking for the eyes. Tears blur my vision. I'm letting out animalistic sobs. Suddenly, something inside me snaps. I let out the loudest, most horrible howl of pain imaginable. Non-human sounding. The howl just goes on and on and on. I can't move. I can't breath. I can't cry. Just howl. Every single bit of pain that I had ever felt. Everything that had hurt me in district 2. Everything that had hurt me in the arena. It's all was coming out and manifesting itself in this howl. I can't breath. I don't want to breath. I want to die here. Please let me die here. I feel nothing. I see nothing. My senses are overwhelmed.

After what seem like an eternity, I notice that the howling has been reduced to a low murmur coming from my throat. I open my eyes for the first time and see nothing. Either I'm now blind or it's still night time. Let Plato find me. Let him kill me. I reach out to touch Cass but she isn't there. I feel her blood though. I don't know how long I was off in my own world but a hovercraft must have picked her up. No need to wait for me to leave. I was as good as dead anyway. With what little strength I have I crawl into the Cornucopia and at the very back. Every movement is nearly impossible to make. My hand touches something soft. A crumpled sleeping bag. I take five minutes to crawl inside of it. Completely sheltered from the world. Curled up in the darkness. I pass out and my dreams are filled with the faces of every tribute I watched die. All screaming, with their throats slit open.


	9. The Gift

I wake up. My face hurts. I have a huge welt where the boy from 8 had kicked my cheek. It is midday. I slowly climb out of the sleeping bag. If Plato or any other tribute had been here then they didn't see me. I was just a crumpled sleeping bag in the corner of the cornucopia. Silent and still. I've slept for many hours. I Slowly drag my body out of the entrance. No ones in site. All is quiet except for the birds and the insects. I manage to find a canteen. It's half full of water. I drink a few mouthfuls. I just lie in the midday sun for hours. No one comes charging at me across the field. And if they did I would embrace death. I will never be the same again. My mind is broken and as a result, so is my body. Every second of the day, there is a noise in my head. A high pitch screaming voice. Its subtle, but it never goes away.

I realise that I have been lying in the huge pool of Cass' dried blood. I make no effort to move. When I feel my skin burning from the sun I drag myself back into the cornucopia. I lie in the entrance. I drift in and out of sleep. At some point it must have started raining because I hear the pitter-patter of raindrops above me. When I open my eyes next the sun is setting.

If I am to die here, let it descend upon me now. Waiting to die is frustrating. The screaming in my head makes it worse. I am tempted to slit my own throat but even that requires effort, which I just don't have.

I hear something hit the dirt next to my right ear. My eyes are closed and I don't open them for half an hour. When I do open them I let my head fall to my right. I stare at the silver parachute inches from my nose. This is my first parachute. Slade, my mentor has had no reason to give me gifts. I've been well fed and relatively safe up until now. What could he possibly have sent to mend a broken soul? Whatever it is, it won't help. I've already decided to die.

The sun is almost gone. I notice the box connected to the parachute. It's tiny. What on earth could it be? I do not want to die in a state of curiosity. I grasp the box in both hands and open it. Inside the box sits a ring. Shiny silver with a large green crystal on top. I have seen this ring before. As the last dying rays of the sun shine down on the ring, the crystal radiates with a green so intense I need to look away. I have seen this ring before. My body is flooded with a feeling matched by no other. Love.

I grasp Aliss' ring close to me. I made a promise, and I'm not going to break it.


	10. A Burning Fire

I am still weak, but my chest burns with renewed energy. A new fire has been lit inside me. I pick up a single knife and walk towards the lagoon in the dark. I carry nothing else except the knife and the ring, which sits on my left ring finger. I reach the lagoon and find the raft missing. As I suspected. I wade into the cold water and begin swimming. I swim for hours. I take breaks whenever I come to a small island. I don't eat. The faces of Trizzy, Cass and the boy from 8 appear in the sky. I keep swimming.

Eventually I see a faint glow in the distance. I alter my course and swim for another 4 kilometres in the direction of the glow. When I'm fifty metres away from the glow, I identify it as a campfire. I knew it. The swimming has drained my energy but I will not stop yet.

I make my way through the water silently until I am twenty metres from the fire. Daimen sits beside it.

I can feel the sandy lagoon bed through my shoes. The water gets shallower. I begin crawling through the shallows. Thin mangroves surround me. I hold the dagger between my teeth as I use both hands to navigate my way through the watery jungle. I'm closing in on my kill.

I must have made a sound because Daimen looks around. He's been staring into the fire so he can't see a thing in the black of night. I don't move. My head is the only thing above water. He looks back at the fire but looks around every now and again. I keep going. Slowly edging closer. The thrill of the hunt is rushing through my body once more. When I get within five metres, I stop. I am in range of the firelight. I can't risk it. Now is the moment. I silently take a deep breath and go under. I begin sliding my body along the bottom of the shallows. Bit by bit, I get closer and closer, like a serpent closing in on prey. The air in my lungs will last me the distance. I stop when I am directly behind Daimen. He's on the island directly at the waters edge, where I lie.

I slowly let my head breach the water surface. I force myself to take my breath slowly and quietly. I rise out of the water behind Daimen, dagger clenched between my teeth. I take the dagger in my right hand and that's when I strike. I cup Daimen's mouth with my left hand and drag him backwards into the water with a splash. He struggles, but it's too late. I plunge my knife into the side of his throat and push outwards, opening it up completely. The water becomes bitter with his blood. As I surface again, the sound of a canon fills the night. The hateful child is dead at last. I feel that justice has been delivered. I clamber onto shore. A nicely lit fire and my backpack welcome me. Cass' raft lies a few metres away. The boy from 7 is still out there so I put out the fire and slide into the water, placing the pack on the raft and pushing it in front of me. I find another island a safe distance from Daimen's old camp and clamber onto it. If the boy from 7 was heading to Daimen's camp then I should be safe here. I lie on the beach, soaking wet but happy. I kiss Aliss' ring and let the chill of the night embrace me as I fall asleep.


	11. The Feast

I wake as the sun rises. I'm damp and freezing. I can't wiggle my toes. I roll my body into the water, which is surprisingly warm. I get out and strip myself naked. Letting my body have some air would be good for me. I lie in the sand and think about what I am going to do next. There are just four of us left. Me, Plato, the boy from 7 and the girl from 12. I haven't seen the girl from 12 at all. She's probably on the very edge of the arena waiting for everyone else to kill each other. I'm happy to kill the other two for her, but then I'll have to kill her too.

The reality hits me. I'm one of the last four alive! How did I manage that? I'm damn lucky that's for sure. I wonder how many people in the Capitol are cheering for me to win? I imagine that the cameras will be on me quite a bit now. I tense as I realise that I'm lying here naked. I push it aside. I don't care.

Somewhere in this maze of islands is the boy from 7. If he's nearby he probably hasn't seen me, because this particular island has large rocks on its shore, which will conceal me. I should be fine for now.

I have no idea what the names are of the tributes from 7 and 12. It doesn't matter. I'll just I'll call him Seven and her Twelve. I try and guess what strategy the other tributes have. Well I can easily guess that Plato will be out searching for the rest of us. He's probably abandoned the Cornucopia. Even for him, its too exposed. Tributes could easily keep an eye on him and pick their moment to murder him. Without the career pack, Plato is vulnerable, but still dangerous. If Plato comes after me, I'll probably hear him first. He's not an immediate threat. I already guessed that twelve is hiding, and will probably remain that way. Seven is my greatest worry. He and I share a domain. I will have to keep moving so he doesn't find me. I decide that he's probably playing the hiding game too.

My tummy grumbles and I open up my pack. Daimen has already eaten half the box of crackers I put in there. I eat a couple and check the rest of my supplies. One sleeping bag, one torch, rope, a first aid kit, four apples, three small bags filled with dried beef strips, a fire starting kit and a canteen of water.

Daimen must have eaten the bread I packed in there.

I don't know how much longer these games will go for so I decide its time to learn how to catch my own food. I spend the next two hours of the morning floating still in the water waiting for fish to swim by me. I have to catch them with my bare hands. I manage to catch three fish, which I am quite happy with. I fillet them then cook them. I eat one of the fillets then put the rest in my pack for later. I also collect fruit and nuts. They are rare to find but fill you up quite well.

I spend the next four days in the lagoon, moving to a new island every morning on Cass' raft. I have made two trips back to the cornucopia during this time. I encountered no one on each trip. I was able to pick up extra food, an extra canteen and my sword, which still lies where I had left it. One or more tributes have been there also. The pool of Cass' dried blood looks as if it has been walked on. Bits of dried blood seemingly kicked up by moving feet.

I have seen Seven once in the lagoon since I started living here. He saw me too so he knows I'm here. We were at quite a distance from each other and I quickly moved away.

I have explored most of the lagoon and have come across a few old campfires. He's moving around too. We keep missing each other. If we bump into each other at close quarters we will both attack, I'm sure of it. In this lagoon, neither of us risks starvation. Neither of us makes fires at night, which adds to this hit and miss game we are playing. I imagine the capitol people yawning as we move aimlessly through the lagoon, or yelling at the television in excitement when we narrowly miss each other. We'll come face to face soon enough. We're bound to.

On the morning of the fifth day of my life in the water maze, I hear the sound of trumpets. A voice booms out from the sky. "Attention tributes. There will be a feast at the Cornucopia today at midday. I repeat. There will be a feast at the Cornucopia today at midday" The voice ends. There hasn't been any bloodshed for almost a week, so the audience must be getting bored. A feast could mean one of a few things. It could be a proper feast with plenty of food, or it could have nothing at all. The feast could also contain a package for each tribute. Something that we desperately need. Feasts usually result in another bloodbath. The game makers are obviously trying to draw some blood for the audience's amusement. None of the tributes are doing anything so this might get things moving.

Like the audience, I'm getting impatient with waiting too. I decide to go to the feast. Even if no one dies I might find out where everyone is hiding. Every advantage helps.

I eat a quick breakfast and set off towards the centre of the arena. It takes me three and a half hours. I know my way around pretty well now. I crouch in the shallows and watch the Cornucopia one hundred metres away. I don't see any movement. It's not midday yet. I move along the shoreline until I reach the forest section. I take up position amongst the trees and wait.

I must have been waiting for two hours before the ground in front of the Cornucopia opens up and a table rises up. There are four bags, each with a number on them. 1, 2, 7 and 12. A gift for each tribute.

What could I possibly need? I don't desperately need something. However, whatever is in that bag must be valuable. I am glad it will be something I can use, and not food, which luckily I have plenty of.

The bag labelled 12 is small. The bag labelled 1 is quite large. The bags labelled 2 and 7 are identical. They are even shaped the same. Could they be the same thing? I decide I'll take Sevens bag too. He's already after me anyway and I don't want him to have any advantage.

I wait another five minutes. No one has run onto the field. If anyone else has come, then they are waiting and watching too. I decide its time to act. I take one last sweep with my eyes across the field then I go. I run as fast as I can, looking from side to side for any hint of an attack.

I'm nearly at the table when something in my subconscious tells me to drop. I leap forward and land hard on the ground as the Spear wizzes over me, missing me by half an inch. I hear it slam into the side of the Cornucopia. I frantically pick my self up off the ground and look to my left, sure enough there's Plato, spiked club in hand, charging at me.

I bolt the last few metres to the table and scoop up the bags labelled 2 and 7. I run straight for the lagoon. Suddenly I am hit from the side by a fast moving body and am sent crashing into the dirt. I look up straight into the eyes of Seven. He tries to tug his bag from my grip with his left hand whilst he throws punches into my face with his right. I frantically struggle to beat him off me. I cop a punch to my left eye and feel a stab of pain shoot through that eye socket. I can't see out of it and I can feel either blood or tears running down my face. I throw a wild punch upwards and hit Seven in the mouth. His teeth slit open the flesh covering my knuckles and I feel one of his teeth dislodge from his gums. His head snaps back from the impact and I am able to get a good look at Plato as he charges up to us with his club lifted above his head, ready to deliver death. This can only end badly. Seven leans forward again, ready to keep pounding me, but I shoot my good eye over in Plato's direction and scream "Watch out!" Seven gets the hint and jerks his body to the left. I roll to the right as the club smashes into the earth where I had laid a split second before. I jump to my feet and leap into the air, taking a roll on the ground, desperate to put some space between me and the monster.

I turn around and see Plato step towards Seven, swinging his club. Seven is on his back and desperately swings the bag at Plato's head. The bag hits Plato in the temple and he is stunned for a second. Seven takes this moment to get up and sprint towards the lagoon. Plato recovers and swings around to me. I run towards the cornucopia. There is no way I am fighting him close quarters. I use all my strength to yank the spear free from the cornucopia's side. I turn to Plato, spear raised. He lumbers towards me and that's when I notice Twelve. She's sprinting away from us towards the Cliffs and sharp rocks, her labelled bag swinging in her hands. She must have grabbed it whilst we three had fought. Something else in my mind takes control and I find myself shouting Plato's name and pointing towards Twelve. The stupid oaf actually turns around and see's Twelve running. I could easily impale him now. He looks back at me and I toss him the spear. He catches it and in one smooth turn he throws the spear. It sails through the air and impales Twelve through the back. She falls to the ground in a heap. Before Plato can face me again I turn and run. I circle around the Cornucopia and sprint to the lagoon. Twelve's canon goes off.

I splash into the water and start swimming. I don't stop until I am sure I am safe. I float in the water and look around. I can just see the Cornucopia. No Plato. I scan the water. No Seven either. I climb onto a small rock that sticks out of the water. I think about what had just happened. I had nearly died, that's for sure. There had been a few close calls with Plato's spear and club. But what gets me is the split second alliance Plato and I had. I guess we both saw an opportunity to rid the world of another tribute. I doubt either of us would have ever been able to track down Twelve if she had gotten away.

My hand goes up to my left eye socket. When I take it away I see blood. My left eye has been damaged and I can't see out of it. I splash some water onto it, which causes it to sting.

My attention shifts to the bag. I open it and pull out a strange looking pair of thin plastic objects and some glasses with a strap. I study the glasses and realise what they are for. I pull the strap around my head and place the glasses over my eyes. A special foam ring seals them to my face. These glasses are for seeing under water. I look at the matching pieces of plastic. I've never seen them before. The design of them looks like I can slide my feet inside. I slide my feet inside them and feel how perfectly they fit my feet with my boots on. I get a brain wave and dive straight back into the water. I can see perfectly under water, with my right eye anyway. I begin to swim. The things attached to my feet allow me to swim a lot faster. They remind me of duck feet.

The game makers have given me glasses for seeing under water and flippers to make travelling in water quicker and easier. This would make hunting Seven a lot easier, though I'm guessing that he also has these items.

I travel back to camp with ease. The flippers make it faster with less energy needed. When the water gets shallow, I take the flippers and glasses off and walk onto the island where my pack and raft are hidden from view between some rocks.

I apply ointment and bandages to my bust eye and take a pill for the pain. I can barely move the fingers on my right hand where Seven's teeth split them open. I think I can see some of the tendons amongst the torn flesh. I apply a ointment and bandages to that too. This is the hand I wield my sword with so I am now at a massive disadvantage.

I spend the rest of the day lying in the sand and nibbling on food. With a good fight and another dead tribute, hopefully the game makers will leave us alone for a while. When nighttime eventually fills the arena, the face of Twelve appears in the sky. She has a kind face. What a shame she had to die.


	12. The end is near

Sleep does not come easily to me. My left eye socket aches constantly. I've taken more pain pills but they do little to ease the throbbing. I try to open the eye but its sealed shut with swelling. The eyeball has ruptured. I accept that I will probably never see from that eye ever again.

When the morning eventually comes I lay in my sleeping bag still feeling tired and weak. The aching in my eye has subsided a little. The fingers on my right have not improved. I get up and change the dressing on my wounds. How awful it would be for me to die of infection instead of in a fight. I remind myself that death of any sort is simply not an option.

As long as I can keep from infection and the fire still burning in my heart, then I know the crown of the Victor can be mine. But how do I achieve it? Seven seems to be similarly matched to myself, except I'm sure I would beat him in a one on one fight with weapons. Seven won't let that opportunity surface though. My chances of beating Plato in a fight are slim, so my chance of killing him rests in my ability to outwit him. I could poison him or set a trap. I don't know how to set snares so this could be a difficult task. I could always let it rest in the hands of the game makers. Before too long they will do something to bring the games to an end, trying to produce the Victor. Based off previous Hunger Games, it will be something the audience are not going to forget. Whatever it is, it will be horrible. Maybe it's best to take initiative and end the games by my own terms.

Although I want to hunt for the other two tributes, I spend the next two days lying low and resting. My main focus is my wounds. Keeping them clean and well looked after. I'll go searching for Seven when I feel I'm up to it. The swelling around the eye decreases enough for me to open the eyelid slightly. I can see nothing but a haze of light through it. It doesn't look promising. With my left eye out of action I find my self constantly turning my head around to my left so I can see directly ahead of me better. My fingers have improved, but not by much.

I think I might be going a little bit insane. At the start of the games, I never uttered a single word unless I needed to. Now, I find myself chatting to myself constantly.

"The wounds seem to be healing," I say out loud

"Yes. They're clean yet the eye and fingers still don't work properly" I reply

"Luckily I've got another eye"

"Very lucky"

There's a pause.

"It's the fingers that will be the death of us though"

"Now don't say that, the movements not perfect but it's far from gone. You can still hold a sword"

"True…. it hurts like hell still"

"You know where the pain killers are"

"But they don't work!"

"Just be lucky we actually have a medical kit"

Another pause.

"It's been quiet these past few days. I wonder what's going to break the silence?"

"Lets not think about it"

I notice that the light is quickly fading. "It's bloody dark and it's only about three o'clock in the afternoon. Why is that?"

"It's those dark clouds rolling towards us. It looks like a nasty storm is coming"

"You don't think…I mean…"

"What?"

"I mean…you don't think that maybe they're planning something?"

"Who?"

I point upward "Them"

"You mean the Capitol?"

"Shhh. Not so loud!"

"Who cares how loud I am! How much worse can it get? We're completely at their mercy!"

I'm yelling at myself now and I don't care who hears me. "Look at those clouds! Something's about to happen! People are going to die and there is nothing you can do about it Tomas! NOTHING!"

I slump to the ground. "CAPTOL PIGS!" I scream to the sky. As if in response to my insult, a deafening clap of thunder fills the sky. I bolt of lightening streaks out of the sky and straight into the direction of the centre of the arena. I imagine it hitting the Cornucopia. I jump to my feet. Something is definitely happening and I don't know what it is. The sky is getting darker and darker by the second. Soon the light will be gone. Its not until I see the spikey tail whip out of the water that I really begin to panic.


	13. Darkening

What the hell was that? Barely twenty metres away I had seen something break the surface of the water. It had looked like a reptilian tail with spines lining it. Whatever it was it was shiny and as dark as the night. It was also big. I can barely see, its like the clouds have swallowed up the sun. It's almost as dark as night itself. I stare desperately into the water and get the fright of my life. Now ten metres away, I see a large dark shape moving rapidly through the water towards my island. I am able to scoop up my sword just in time to see the terrible monster as it springs up at the waters edge and pounces on me. I thrust forward with my sword, impaling the creature as its weight forces me onto my back. A foul smelling jaw snaps at my neck as I hold it away with my free hand. Rows of needle thin teeth line the gums of the mouth that smells like death itself. Its dark black eyes peer into mine. Eyes that show nothing but the desire to kill.

I can't yank my sword free and I feel the strength of the creature slowly overpowering me. I reach for my knife buts its trapped between me and the creatures body. I let my wounded fingers let go of the sword handle. I stab my fingers straight in the creature's soulless eyes. It lets out a deafening sound, somewhere between a hiss and a scream. Its head jerks back and I am able to wiggle my body from underneath it. I now grab its head in my hands and drive my fingers further and further into its eye sockets until its body stops flailing around.

I step back from the dead hell spawn. Dark red blood covers my hands. I finally get a good look at my attacker.

It is roughly eight feet in length. It has a long serpent like body and tail and is as black as night. It has long spines protruding from its back, with translucent webbed skin stretched between each spine. Its body is scaled. The creature's head carries the very essence of nightmares. It's teeth like needles. It's eyes like bottomless black pits, now punctured with blood spilling out. The whole creature resembles something similar to a snake, but much worse. My sword sticks out of its belly. I bend down and yank it free. A foul smell fills the air as its guts spill before my feet. This thing I just killed is without a doubt one of the Capitol's Mutations. A mutt.

This is it. This is the end of the Hunger games. Whatever happens within the next few hours will decide whom the Victor is. There will definitely be more serpents on their way.

Remembering the way the serpent had jumped onto land, I decide my best chance is to head back to the Cornucopia. If they follow me on land then at least I will be able to see them coming.

I strap my sword to my belt along with my knife. I hastily put on the goggles and flippers and dive straight into the water. I don't give a seconds thought about the rest of my possessions. They can't help me now.

I swim as fast as I can. My time in the arena has not been without danger but this is the deadliest situation I have been in. I keep swimming. No stopping. If I stop then I'm dead. I constantly peer around the water to check for serpents coming to attack but I see none. The lightless sky makes the water almost impossible to see through. I can feel my legs aching but I force them to keep going without rest. Keep swimming or die. I must get to the cornucopia.

I have no idea how long I've been swimming for but I estimate I must be at least half way there. Suddenly an excruciating pain shoots through my left leg. The needle like teeth of a serpent pierces the flesh of my leg. I look behind me but can't see through the dark water. I am certain I see a glint of its eyes though. I draw my sword to stab at it, when a second serpent wraps its body around mine and begins squeezing. I can just make out its razor sharp teeth as it lunges for my neck, and am able to bring up my sword arm just in time to protect my throat. The teeth sink into my arm instead and I feel my already weak grip, weaken even more. The sword drops from my hand and sinks to the murky depths below. Pain envelopes my body as I am bitten and squeezed to death. I am out of air and my I begin to feel lightheaded. My left hand finds my knife at my side and I pull it free. First, I ram it into the head of the serpent biting my right arm. It instantly lets go. I try and lash out at the one on my leg but I can't reach it. It strengthens its bite on my leg and drags me deeper. Finally I reach it with my knife and slash it across the face. I feel it let go and begin to kick with my feet. My lungs are bursting. I must be ten metres under water. As I feel that I am about to pass out I breach the surface of the water and take in deep gasping breaths. I swim to a large rock jutting out of the water and clamber on.

My leg and arm are in severe pain. The countless needle holes in my limbs leak blood onto the rock. I look out at the water and see numerous shapes swimming in my direction. I must keep moving.

Before I am about to dive back into the water, I hear a scream. I look to a small island barely thirty metres away to my right and see the form of Seven as he fends off three serpents. Before I have time to think I am back in the water swimming rapidly towards the island.

I clamber onto the sand, still wearing flippers and ram my knife into the nearest serpent. I catch Seven's eye and we both know that at this moment in time, our real enemy's are the serpents. We hack and slash at the serpents, killing some and forcing others to retreat. Both of us are bitten multiple times and I begin to feel weak with blood loss. The pain is unbearable. With every serpent we kill, it seems like another three come to take its place.

"Its no use!" I scream, "We have to go NOW!" Seven is wearing his flippers too and we both dive into the murky water. I find that I actually swim faster with Seven at my side. I guess both of us are hoping to get in front of the other one so a pursuing serpent will grab the one that falls behind.

Serpents attack us both as we swim, and both miraculously fend them off. My flippers have been torn and shredded to the point where they are now useless. As I lift my head out of the water I can see the shore within site. The strength in my body has long been spent yet still I manage to keep swimming.

Only thirty more metres. I feel those razor sharp teeth bite into my side. I twist in agony and stab at the serpent's head with my knife. It drops away and my thrashing leg scrapes the sandy bottom of the shallows. I frantically clamber through the rocks, that fill the shallows, towards the shore. Seven is directly behind me.

As the water becomes knee deep I hear Seven cry out. I Splash through the last of the shallows and clamber onto land, then look behind me. Seven desperately battles with two serpents as they bite and twist their way around his body. I see a further fifteen or so serpents quickly advance upon him from behind. I watch in horror as those horrible mouths ravage Seven. I can't let this happen. No one deserves to die like this. I find myself splashing back into the lagoon towards the carnage. I am knee deep when I am able to reach out to him. Seven is in a deeper part of the shallows to me, giving the serpents more room to play. For some reason the serpents don't enter the knee-deep water. Perhaps it is the end of their territory. Seven see's me and screams out again. I reach my hand out to him and he reaches back. We lock hands and I try to pull him towards me. Already I know it's pointless. Seven screams in agony as countless serpents rip and tear at his body. Hunks of flesh fly everywhere. I try with my last remaining strength to pull him to me but his grip breaks and his whole body is pulled into the water. His last scream is cut off as his head is dragged under. The water erupts in a feeding frenzy as tails and fangs lash out of the water. The water that splashes onto my face tastes bitter with blood. Amongst that frenzy, I see Sevens hand gripping his knife. He's trying so desperately to fight them off. I stumble back onto shore and watch. The water is still a violent eruption of movement. I wait for a canon. Nothing. I feel sick. Why don't they just kill him? Another minute passes before I hear the canon. The water becomes calm again. The shallows are now alive with the black shapes of swimming serpents, guarding the lagoon.

I drag my bleeding body towards the cornucopia. It takes me a while to realise that the cornucopia is blazing with flames. The lightning blast I had seen earlier must have set it alight. I don't bother wondering how on earth that golden metal shell could possibly be burning. I just drag myself towards its warmth. When I eventually get there, I take off my glasses and shredded flippers and lie still. The blood still seeps from my wounds and I know I don't have much time until I bleed to death. I look over towards the Cliffy part of the arena and see countless figures prowling its jagged rocky border. Mutts. Just like the serpents, they had been sent to drive any tributes towards the centre, for the grand finale. From what I can see, the Mutts resemble huge cats. Their long ears pricked up. Like the serpents, they have stopped at the end of their territory, just watching.

I lie on the ground, waiting for death to take me. I can't stay alive for much longer. Hopefully Plato will be killed by Mutts any second now. As if on queue, I hear high pitched screeching sounds from the forest. I look into the mass of trees and see giant winged creatures attacking something as it lumbers through the tree line. The human figure stumbles across the field towards the cornucopia, and there we are together. The last two living tributes of the 31st annual Hunger Games. Me, half dead and lying in a pool of blood with only a knife at my side; and Plato. He is now bare chest and covered in bite marks and scratches every inch of his body. Fresh blood creating a shiny layer over his skin. A bloody axe hangs loosely from his right hand.

His eyes catch mine.


	14. The Firelight

For a moment we just stare at each other. The light from the cornucopia plays and flickers off Plato's' face. The arena is completely dark now except for the fire. This is the grand finale. The final fight. A last desperate battle, circling the magnificent burning shell. There can only be one victor.

Plato starts towards me, with one soul intention. He's about twenty metres from me and moves slowly with a limp. I look dead anyway so why would he try and run? Pain shoots through my whole body as I try to stand. All I can manage is to drag my weak body across the ground. I end up dragging my dying body half way around the burning Cornucopia to escape him. What else can I do?

Plato follows me around, his hand gripped tight to the axe. He snarls and my body somehow finds the energy to stand up. It is quite an achievement just to stand, but walking is near impossible. I'm limping terribly. I hear my knife drop from my belt to the ground. I must keep moving. My body protests uncontrollably, my legs screaming at me to let them collapse. Plato is catching up. If I collapse then he'll be on top of me. I hear a whoosh of air, as the axe swings right behind my head. Plato lets out a grunt of pain and anger. The axe swings behind my head again, this time closer. Knowing that the next swing will mean death, I stop in my tracks, turn and punch out at Plato's face. I hit him in the mouth and Aliss' ring splits open his upper lip doing more damage than I had intended. With Plato out of the fight, if not for just a second, I begin desperately hopping on the least damaged leg in an attempt to put some distance between that axe and me. The pain shoots through my body.

I make it around the Cornucopia, hopping past the wide entrance.

I trip. That's all it takes. One trip and I'm dead.

The breath rushes from my lungs as I hit the ground; I let out a deep groan of agony. The sound of Plato's feet dragging painfully across the ground get closer behind me. I turn my head to the right and see the axe. I look forward and stare into the bright fire. Well, this is how it ends then.

While I resign myself to this fate, my good eye catches site of the long curved blade sitting directly in the flames. It's now or never. As quick as a flash my left arm reaches forward and I snatch the blade up by its handle. Within the same second, I've rolled onto my back and the blade is swinging blindly above me. There's the sound of an impact and a shriek of pain as the blade hits Plato's hand. Two of his fingers fly off and the axe falls from his severed grip, but before the axe can hit the ground, my left hand is completely consumed by searing pain as the flame heated handle of the sword burns the flesh from my hand. I recoil my hand to my chest, weeping uncontrollably but no sound escaping my mouth. Plato has taken a step back, clutching his own bloody hand.

I haul myself to my feet. Plato advances upon me. I throw a punch with my right hand but he gets in first, his fist breaking my nose on impact. I fall back to the ground, blood streaming down my face. As Plato moves forward I kick out with my leg, hitting him directly in the groin. He keels over in pain. I'm on my feet again and knee him in the face, causing blood to spray into the air. I start laying punches into his face. The wounds on my right knuckles tear open again. I'm using both hands and the pain it causes me is crippling, but I keep punching desperate to knock him down. On the ninth punch my left wrist completely snaps. The wrist had been contorted from the pain of the burn, so the joint had snapped when the impact of the blow transferred through my awkwardly bent wrist. I stumble back. The agony is too much.

I keep stumbling back. This can't go on. I'm useless. Plato tries to stand straight, his body still twisted from the kick to the groin. His good hand goes to his boot and he pulls out a small throwing knife. His eyes lock onto my face and I know exactly where he's aiming. As he releases the knife into the air my left arm shoots up to protect my right eye. I feel the impact of the knife but no pain as it lodges itself into my forearm, just below the elbow. I lower my arm and see Plato lumbering towards me. I tear the throwing knife from my forearm and hold it out in front. Now the pain begins to set it.

I stumble backwards, slashing the air in front of me with the knife, desperate to keep Plato back. The ruined fingers of my right hand lose the grip on the blade and it ends up sailing harmlessly through the air and into the dirt.

Plato lunges forward delivering two sluggish punches to my face. I'm back on the ground again. Plato jumps on top of me and starts strangling. I feel my throat being crushed. A few more seconds and I'm dead. I am able to move my head just enough to clamp my jaw onto one of his wrists. I taste blood in my mouth and Plato's grip weakens enough for me to wriggle free, kicking him back.

Plato crashes onto me again and we are rolling across the dirt. His arms trap my body against his, as he tries to crush my neck again in a headlock. I manage to plant my foot on the ground and push off, causing my face to smack into his. I grab hold of his left cheek with my teeth and bite down as hard as I can, never letting go. Plato screams and tries to push me away, but I don't relent. As we roll around on the ground I feel my mouth tear away from his face. Plato's cheek remains between my teeth. I witness the bloody monster before me. I huge gaping hole now lies where his cheek used to be. I can see his blood soaked teeth as they line the side of his mouth.

I spit the flesh from my mouth and crawl towards the Cornucopia. Plato, bleeding uncontrollably from the face and making desperate moaning sounds follows me. He catches up and sends a punch into my jaw. I feel my jaw dislocate and my body is sent flying into the wall of the Cornucopia. I feel the searing pain of the fire and expect flames to engulf my body, but they don't. It's in that moment that I form my last desperate plan. I narrowly avoid another punch, and kick out at Plato's bare chest sending him to the ground once more. I squirm back towards the entrance of the Cornucopia. I force myself to stand. I look into the entrance. It's like a huge fireplace, completely filled with hostile flames. The heat is overwhelming. As Plato blunders towards me, I open my arms as if to embrace him. Seeing an advantage in this, Plato does the same. Our bodies meet and our arms lock each other in; and with all the strength my legs can muster, I lurch my body to the right, sending the two hugging tributes straight into the mouth of fire.


	15. A Broken Body

The pain I felt next is indescribable. It envelops my whole body. Pain is my new world.

As I writhe around in the flames, the rest of the plan manages to force its way back into my thoughts. I manage to yank my jacket over my head, protecting it from the flames that eat my body alive.

The body is amazingly strong when it needs to be. My legs push effortlessly off the ground and I roll out of the mouth of the cornucopia. I squirm the last few feet as flames still lick at my legs. I roll a few more times to get away from the intense heat.

I lie on the ground, smoke rising off my body. I'm in my own world of misery. My body shakes uncontrollably from the pain. But I am alive. My plan had worked. The jacket must have been made out of some fire retardant material, and the thermals were woollen. Wool doesn't burn. This had all come to me after I did not catch fire when pushed against the wall of the Cornucopia. It was a suicidal plan that formed after that, but I had no other choice. Plato with his bare chest didn't stand a chance. Despite covering my head, it has still suffered some burns. My hands suffered the worst. The rest of my body rages with pain yet I know it's not as bad as my hands.

My ears eventually become aware of a sound coming from the mouth of the Cornucopia. A horrible guttural moaning sound. Plato. I turn my head to the flames. I can't see Plato but I know he's there somewhere. The moan eventually dissipates. The last canon of the 31st Hunger Games sounds. This is when my body begins to shut down. The deed is done and I can no longer hold on. My whole body is riddled with countless puncture wounds from the serpents. The majority of my body is burned in some way or another. Both of my hands are useless, my left eye is bust, my nose is broken, my left arm snapped and impaled, my throat crushed, my jaw is dislocated and I have blood pouring from open wounds everywhere. My body and mind has been pushed far beyond their limits and now they're letting go.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the Victor of the thirty first annual Hunger Games, Tomas Andralis! I give you, the male tribute of District Two!" booms the voice above me.

If I felt any relief hearing those words, it was masked by the pain.

The warmth of the fire fills my broken body as my vision begin to darken. Two hovercrafts descend from the sky. One uses its metal prongs to scoop out the charred remains of Plato from the Cornucopia, whilst the second lands a few metres away from me. A man clad in white exits the hovercraft and rushes towards me. My vision goes black. I feel something get stabbed into my arm and I feel a rush of energy surge through my veins. My vision returns. I'm still dying but whatever it is that the man gave me, has kept me living for just a little bit longer.

I don't really remember what happens next. I am somehow being lifted into the air. I'm looking down at the burning Cornucopia. I see the field of battle from above. Scuffle marks litter the ground. I see blood everywhere. All around the Cornucopia, the dirt is stained with blood. Litres and litres of blood. It marks out exactly where we were fighting. I'm surprised Plato and me had survived as long as we did with so much blood escaping from our bodies. How am I still alive? I pass out.

I wake again briefly and find myself being hauled onto a white table in a white room. My eye catches the quickest glimpse of myself in some reflective glass. I do not look human. My skin is scorched black. Any bit of flesh that isn't black is blood red. My left eye socket is swollen twice its normal size. My hair is singed to the point where it simply isn't there any more. My whole body looks like it has been broken into a thousand pieces, held together only by shredded skin.

I'm placed on the table and a mask is placed over my face. After that, I remember nothing.


	16. Eyes Open

My eyes open slowly. I must be heavily sedated. I can't think. I feel nothing.

I pass in and out of consciousness for what seems like days. Sometimes I am aware of figures working around me or sitting beside me. I hear voices but they don't form words.

I wake up. I'm still heavily sedated. I can think. My left eye works perfectly now. The room is small and dark grey. A large bulky figure sits by me. As my eyes adjust I make out the butch face of Slade, my mentor. He stares at me and a small smile crosses his lips. "The hero awakens," he says quietly. I can't talk but he fills me in on everything. "You're in the training centre medical bay. You were completely knocked out for three days," he continues. "Then when they started giving you less dosages of all those drugs, you began to half wake up every now and again, sometimes murmuring the name Aliss. Who is she? Anyway, you've been doing that for four days now, and finally you're awake, properly this time."

That long? I've been like this for a week. Slade then begins telling me how my condition was so critical, and my wounds so bad that my life depended on being completely asleep, with medical staff working on me constantly. The presentation of the Victor is usually a few days after the games end, but they have had to put it off longer due to my condition. I imagine the capitol people must be getting impatient.

I wonder if I still look like a monster? As if Slade could read minds he says, "You're looking fine though, kid. They're gonna make you look prettier than you did before the games even started! The burns you received could have been a lot worse."

Fatigue suddenly takes over and I gaze towards my bedside table and my eyes are just able to pick up the intense green of Aliss' ring, before I disappear back into drug-induced sleep.

I stay in the small medical room for another two days. My medication is slowly reduced until I no longer rely on it. My broken wrist has healed well. I don't know what the doctors did to it but I can already move it, though the movement is limited and painful. I am able to get out of bed to practice walking. My body still aches but I think that's from being bed ridden for so long. My wounds seemed to have almost finished healing. I certainly feel a thousand times better. I pass by a mirror and look at myself closely. The monster is gone. I look like I used to, except I'm skinnier and I look a lot frailer. They shaved away the remains of my hair so now I am bald. Only a couple of millimetres of hair cover my scalp. My body is also covered in scars, though I am told that when I am completely healed, I will be getting something called a body polish, to remove the scars and make me look – as I heard one female nurse say – "Like a newborn child." My burns and scars have faded remarkably. I can't begin to imagine the expense of the medical technology used to heal my body. I'm just glad that I could receive it.

I study my face and notice my nose has been fixed up, yet it still has a slight kink in it where it was broken. I also notice something about my eyes. What is it about them? Yes, that's it. They look tortured. It's at this moment that I know, without a doubt, that I will never be the same ever again.

I fiddle with Aliss' ring, which I am wearing. It looks so beautiful, especially next to my scarred fingers. An overwhelming feeling of relief touches my heart as I realise that I will be reunited with her soon. I make a new promise. The promise that I will never leave her again.

I hear someone approach me from the left and I turn quickly, the instinct from the arena still ingrained in my body. "Relax tough guy, its only me!" says Slade. "Come on pal, we got to get you ready for your presentation! Your prep team will be here shortly."

Oh god. Not the prep team. Before I can protest, Slade is guiding me out of the room and down a corridor. There's no use struggling. Slade is a dominant, assertive and aggressive kind of guy. What he says goes. He won his games out of strength and bloodlust. Of course, he was a volunteer. Yet to his credit, I must admit that he does exhibit a high level of intelligence and charisma that makes him so likeable. He is only three years older than myself.

As Slade guides me around a corner, I see Selvia and Marge Vindavuer, standing there waiting for me. Selvia smiles at me. I almost wait for her to burst into tears again like she did just before the games started but she doesn't. Instead she approaches me and embraces me. "I'm very proud of you," She whispers into my ear. I feel her hands pressed against my muscular back. I embrace her back. "Thanks," I reply. Selvia's blood red hair smells nice. I feel myself relax. Marge Vindavuer totters over to me next and gives me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. Her eyes flitter about my battle-scarred face. "My my!" she exclaims. "What a tough nut you are to take a beating like that! I'll tell you now I could barely look at the screen during your final fight! I was almost in tears!" Her chirpy capitol accent makes me smile. I can't begin to imagine how Marge would hold up if she was thrust in the games. So flimsy and delicate. The thought makes me chuckle a little, though I am truly glad to see her.

Selvia leads me across the room towards another doorway. I don't dislike my prep team; they just overwhelm me is all. As soon as I walk through the doorway I am swamped. All three of them begin talking at me none stop. They embrace me all at once and I almost fall over from their affection. Almost as quick as the welcome had come, it is replaced by gasps of shock as they notice all my scars. They strip me naked before I can resist and plonk me into a padded chair. More gasps come from their mouths. Lasweena begins apply makeup to my face and neck. I watch her bright orange lips move non-stop as she works over me. All I pick up from her constant chatter is that I shouldn't worry because I am in good hands and that they will cover my scars. Mercutio, a tall thin man with beautiful black skin and fluoro green stripes on his arms begins preparing my nails. He lets out a gasp as he studies my hands. "Your hands! They're ruined!" he shrieks. I look down at my hands. Yes Mercutio, I think to myself. I jumped into a fire, what did you expect? I don't utter a word though. I'll let him work his magic on them. Marlo begins working on my hair, or what's left of it. Marlo is a short man with those horrid cat whisker implants that so many capitol people seem to have.

I zone in and out of their conversation. All they talk about is the games or how scarred my body is. I hear bits and pieces. "You'll be getting your full body polish tomorrow, but for now, make up will have to do" informs Lasweena.

"We wanted it done earlier but the doctors said not until tomorrow" adds Mercutio, "But don't worry Tomas dear, you'll have the polish done in time for your one on one interview with Mikel Angelico!"

That's right, first I have to be crowned victor at the ceremony, then I will have my interview with Mikel Angelico, the man who interviews the tributes before the games, then the victors afterwards.

After my prep team has finished with me I study myself in the mirror. Selvia helps me dress in a black suit, and a shiny white, collared shirt. What I like most about it is the beautiful green buttons at the front of the suit jacket. They go perfectly with Aliss' ring.

I study myself in the mirror. It is certainly not how I would dress back in district 2 but it certainly does look good. The suit fits my lean physique perfectly. It exaggerates my thin body as well as my muscular qualities. The green buttons flare with life, just like the ring that I wear. A small green flower that I cannot identify sits in my top pocket. My bow tie is jet black like the suit. The makeup nearly completely covers my scars. They actually tried to accentuate one scar that sits just below my right eye. I study my hair. Marlo has turned it into a work of art. Its only a couple of millimetres long, but he has used a special kind of razor to completely remove hair in some places which turn out to be sleek patterns and shapes that resemble blades and lighting bolts.

Apparently the look and persona they were going for was somewhere between a bad boy and a romantic. They have made me look both rough and tough, and also ready to sweep any lady off her feet. I beam with pleasure, as I know that Aliss will see me like this. Selvia tells me that in the arena, I built up a reputation of being a fighter and a killer, but with a soft side. This stirred some emotions; and as soon as that ring came down in the parachute, after I had given up, the whole of the capitol went crazy at the idea of me getting back into the fight purely out of love. The capitol guessed it was love, but no one really knew for sure, except that the ring was special to me somehow. I hear that the ring caused all sorts of speculation in the capitol. There's a knock on the door and Marges voice informs that we need to get going.


	17. Ecstasy and Misery

As the hovercraft takes my team and I towards the city square for the ceremony, the reality of what has happened finally sinks in.

I am the Victor.

I, Tomas Andralis of District 2, am the victor of the 31st Annual Hunger Games.

Of course, I already knew this, but I am overwhelmed by this bizarre, fresh gush of realisation. I have won! Despite the odds, I have come out the other end alive! The odds say that I should be dead, but here I am, alive. This feels amazing.

I find my self in a complete state of euphoria. The world passes by me in a blur of ecstasy.

I'm getting off the hovercraft.

Unknown faces smile at me.

I smile back.

I wait underneath the stage on a metal plate.

This brings back strange memories of going into the arena and the butterfly's return.

I hear Mikel Angelico's voice booming above me.

My prep team is introduced first.

Then Selvia.

Then Marge.

Then Slade.

My name is called. The plate rises.

I am transported up onto the stage and am forced to take a step back as the dazzling lights and roar of the crowd hit me full on. The butterflies vanish.

I walk to the throne at the centre of the stage especially for me. I sit. A voice over the speaker. My name is mentioned multiple times. I catch a glimpse of myself on one of the huge screens. I look tough yet dashingly handsome. Selvia and the others have done well. The President is suddenly in front of me placing a golden crown on my head. I smile uncontrollably and it takes me a second to realise that I have actually risen and am embracing the President. The crowd goes ballistic. The President is momentarily confused but then he smiles and laughs, giving me a friendly pat on the back. The roaring crowd gets quieter as the space darkens. Its time to watch the games. Someone would have edited the whole games into a three-hour summary. I sit back to watch.

They have a small square on the bottom left corner of the screen, which occasionally comes up to, show the face of the victor as they watch the video. I can't stop smiling, so every single person in Panem will have to endure my goofy grinning face. This is my night, so endure it they will. The big screen lights up.

The first half an hour focuses on the pre-games events. During the reaping, I beat my chest and raise my fist as Marge picks my name from that glass bowl. The crowd responds with hooting and stomping. The chariot ride is shown and then the interview with Mikel Angelico. Being not much of a talker, I had given him short answers to his questions. I injected a smug or witty comment into the conversation when I saw the opportunity, and had actually managed to come across as a very relaxed and very cool kind of person. I don't know how on earth I had managed that. Next we see the training scores of the tributes. I had received an eight. All I had done for the head gamekeepers was demonstrate my skill with the melee weapons. Plato and Patreeko were the only tributes to score tens.

When we get up to the actual games, the butterflies return once again. I watch myself standing on the plate as we all wait for the gong to sound and I notice that my whole body had been trembling. The person responsible for editing the footage had done a good job of not showing the vomit that covered the metal plate. I feel the butterflies get bigger and bigger. The gong sounds. I feel my state of euphoria declining. The camera angle changes to the inside of the Cornucopia. I see myself getting closer and closer. The boy from 12 is directly behind me; almost close enough to touch me. I see myself slam into the rack of weapons and within a split second I am lashing out behind me with a sword. The screen goes dark red as his blood splatters over the camera. The camera changes to elsewhere. I hear people in the crowd cheer as we watch my first kill, and consequently, the first kill of the games. I don't cheer.

My euphoric state of ecstasy is now completely gone.

As the show goes on I feel my mind begin to deteriorate. At the part where I kill Trizzy I begin to hear the screams. Those blood-curdling screams that filled the night air. Those screams that resonated and stayed in my head for days afterward. I hear them at the back of my mind. I tuck my chin to my chest, close my eyes tight and press my palms into my eye sockets. I can't take it. My eyes. My tortured eyes. I cannot avoid those screams that tear at my brain, but let me forget what I have seen. I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see Slade standing over me, a look of concern in his eyes. I give him a small nod and he goes back to his seat. I try and compose myself for the rest of the showing. I sit still, brooding in my own misery.

The fight between Plato and me at the end is brutal to watch. There are a lot of cringing sounds coming from the audience. A shudder ripples down my spine and spreads throughout my skin as I watch myself send both of our bodies into the mouth of fire. When the showing is over I wait for the ceremony to end. When I eventually stand to leave, I am shaking slightly. I let Slade and Marge guide me away towards the victors feast at the Presidents palace. I try and stay cheerful throughout the feast. I talk to the capitol people who seek me out and nibble on the incredible food that is presented. I enjoy the celebration but by the end, I am exhausted.

I barely sleep. As the night turns to early morning I am constantly woken by nightmares. I did not get nightmares in the medical bay, probably because I had drugs pumping through my body. Now the horror of the games is stronger than ever, following me throughout the night. I dream of Aliss. I dream of her eyes being gouged out just like Cass' had been. The dream changes until nothing is clear to me anymore. I hear screaming and see blood. I wake. I get out of bed. I kiss Aliss ring and walk to the corner of my bedroom in the training centre, dragging my blanket behind me. I wrap myself up and sit in the corner. I let my breathing slow down. I sit in the corner for the next couple of hours until I doze off. I dream of Aliss again, but it is not horrific. All I see is her eyes, her hair blowing in the breeze and her beautiful smile. I feel frustrated in the dream because I cannot reach her. Eventually I stop trying to reach her and just watch her, soaking up her beauty and kindness from a distance. I don't know how long this dream goes on for but I am woken by Marge, knocking on the door, telling me I'll be getting my body polish in one hours time and then to my interview with Mikel Angelico at two. My eyes open and all I want to do is get home to Aliss. I love her and I need her.


	18. Home

I drink two mugs of coffee at breakfast. I'll need it due to my sleepless night. After breakfast, I am taken to a small hospital close by where I receive the body polish. I am put to sleep for three hours and when I wake up I admire my body. The skin is so smooth and clean. Many of my scars have almost completely vanished. The biggest ones still remain but they are less noticeable. I barely have time to dress before Marge has whisked me away into a car and back to the training centre where my prep team waits. They make me up similarly to the ceremony except I am dressed in a pale green, buttoned shirt, dark grey pants and a dark grey vest. It is a formal casual look. The interview takes place just next to the dining room. Mikel Angelico sits patiently in a chair as I arrive on set. I am certain that Mikel is close to seventy years old yet it's hard to tell under all that makeup and cosmetic surgery. He wears an orange suit and his perfectly white hair is slicked back. His lips are an amazing bright yellow.

He hugs me when I come in. "Good to see you Tomas, how are you?"

"Fine thanks" I reply

I sit down opposite Mikel and then the interview begins. The conversation goes over the events of the games. We talk about my experience in the career pack and how the alliance had been broken. We talk about my mental breakdown in the cornucopia and Mikel ventures to ask more about this mysterious green ring that pretty much brought me back from the dead. When he asks this, I stare straight into the camera and say that the ring belongs to the most valuable person in my life. I want Aliss to know this. I don't give many details and Mikel doesn't push the point. I don't want our love to be advertised all over the country. It belongs to us and us alone. The conversation turns to the lagoon. "You and Edgale had the whole of Panem on the edge of their seats!" exclaims Mikel. So that's what Seven's name was. Edgale. "Six times! I counted six times that you two nearly bumped straight into each other in the water maze! Each time we all thought we were about to witness another brutal fight to the death! The most excruciating bit was when the pair of you were sleeping on islands barely twenty metres from one another. I can tell you, I could barely go to bed that night out of fear of missing something." When the conversation gets to the final fight with Plato, Mikel gets serious. "During that last fight to the death no one knew who was going to win. I assure you that the whole of the Capitol was cheering for either you or Plato. You had the people divided! Oh, and when you jumped into that fire I literally screamed. For a few shocking seconds everybody thought that we weren't going to have a victor this year, but when you wriggled out of those flames I cannot tell you how relived I was, and I think that goes for every person in Panem!"

When the interview finishes I thank Mikel then head back to my room. I sit by myself for a while until Slade calls me out to head off for the train station. We are driven to the station where the train waits. I wave goodbye to Selvia and my prep team as the train moves away from the platform. Night time draws in quickly. We eat a large dinner then watch the replay of the interview before I go straight to bed. The nightmares are relentless and I try to stay awake. Not even the food of the Capitol comforts me for the next day of travel. All I want to do is get home. I want my family and I want Aliss.

When the station of District 2 comes into view my pulse quickens. I am dressed in neatly fitted clothes similar to what we wear in the district. I stand by the door. I can't take it anymore. I need to get out. I need my family. Tears begin to well in my eyes. The slowing of the train in front of the station seems to take forever. I wait for the doors to open and Slade puts a hand on my shoulder. "Watch it tiger, don't get too excited now." The doors open and my legs work on their own. I shove my way through the cameras that pack the platform. I hastily make my way through the station exit and when I reach the dirt road that leads into the district I begin the sprint, completely leaving my group behind. Slade is behind me calling my name. He doesn't know what I am doing and is just trying to save me from doing something foolish or dangerous. I don't care how foolish I look. I just need to find my loved ones.

As I run the streets, I notice that nothing in District 2 has changed. Nothing except me. Within minutes I can see the city square. People are gathering there to welcome me home. I begin to notice the decorations in the streets as I rush through them. Shouts of delight and surprise surround me as people see and recognise their victor. I assume they all expect me to be with my escorts at the station, not tearing down the streets.

I reach the city square and push my way through the crowd. People begin hooting and cheering as people realise who has arrived. People respectably dart out of my way. I swear that I even see oafish figure of Zander step aside to let me pass. I keep running and look around frantically. I see them now. Standing on the victor's stage. Not Aliss, but both my parents and Jade. My eyes blur again with tears and I push my way towards them. They catch site of me and rush off the stage towards me. It is in the very heart of the city centre where we are reunited. They embrace me tightly and I embrace them back. They weep, I weep and the crowd cheers. For five minutes we hold each other tight. My early appearance was unexpected but the mayor of District 2 verbally welcomes me back through the microphone, asking for another round of applause.

The crowd gradually dies down after a while, but as I continue to stand with my family, the volume of the crowd begins to pick up again. The mixed sounds of hooting, cheering, whistling and whispering begin to fill the square. What have they seen? A shiver runs down my spine and I begin to tremble. I take a step back from my family and turn around. Those green eyes penetrate my very soul. I take a step towards her but my legs waver. My eyes darken and the next thing I remember is I'm lying on my back. I open my eyes, letting the light enter slowly. I must have fainted. I stare upwards and Aliss' face fills my vision. So radiant and beautiful. A tear falls from her face and lands on my cheek. I become aware of my own tears as they stream down the side of my face. I open my lips to say something but she presses a finger against them to silence me. She then leans down and presses her lips against mine. If the crowd had cheered any louder, I would have gone deaf.


	19. A Curse and a Blessing

I am the Victor. The whole of Panem has watched me fight and win. I know deep down that I am a slave to the capitol, but I maintain my dignity for all it is worth. This is a game of death, honour and victory. There is nothing I can do about the Capitol's oppression of the districts. I can only continue to live my life believing that I have won the greatest of awards. That I have received the greatest of honours. I am the Victor. To think anything else would just eat me up. Too many times have I seen Victors fall victim to the torment and mental scars that the game bestows upon them. If I subject myself to that mindset then ultimately I have lost the games. The games are a curse and you must bear it correctly else you will become its biggest victim; wishing forever that you had died in that forsaken place.

Every night I wake up panting. Every nightmare as bad as the last. I look to my side and see Aliss lying next to me. To believe in the honour of the games only makes life bearable. The sleeping figure next to me is what makes life worth living.


End file.
